


get back, fuckers! / this is my fucking man!

by renjunarc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, it's not that bad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunarc/pseuds/renjunarc
Summary: lee jihoon just wants to marry his fiance in peace.





	get back, fuckers! / this is my fucking man!

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey  
> this isn't really well written  
> considering i just word vomited it  
> anyways  
> this is based off a tweet i saw on twitter and got permission to write it >:))
> 
> this fic is based off of [THIS PROMPT](https://twitter.com/CoffeeShipper/status/1057451091715977216)  
> thank you @/CoffeeShipper for being one of the haohoon supremacists i know
> 
> \--sal

“Oh, nice -- you’re still a ten,” Minghao chortles. His shoulders shake with every gleeful wheeze.

Jihoon looks up and scowls at him from beneath his bangs. He wipes the blood splattered on his cheek, but only succeeds in smearing more across the milky skin.

“Asshole,” Jihoon mutters. He lowers his gaze and wrinkles his nose at the viscera strewn upon the ballroom floor. He kicks a pointed, black dress shoe into the nearest corpse and watches it flop onto its back in disgust. The head is missing majority of its face, much thanks to the nailed wooden bat Jihoon grips tightly in his hands. “I’m your _fiance_. I deserve more than just a ten.”

Minghao smiles crookedly and shrugs his shoulders flippantly. He slowly makes his way through the room to reach Jihoon, careful not to slip on any pools of blood and risk the fate of a broken neck.

“If it makes you feel any better, you _were_ a solid twelve when I was coming down the aisle.”

“So why the downgrade?”

The shorter looks up at him again, eyes burning with something the taller can’t seem to place. It’s fine, though, because it’s always been like that. Before, he would spend so much time attempting to decipher the man’s unreadable thoughts and feelings, but realized later on that the effort put into doing so was futile. Now he knows that no matter how much of an open book Lee Jihoon is, he continues to be an enigma. He’d grab a pen and vandalize the pages just to write in something new and change the whole story around.

“Honestly, it isn’t a downgrade. It’s just there’s nobody to compare your attractive looks to,” Minghao admits then pauses. After a minute, he adds, “Nobody alive, anyways, so I guess... congratulations? You’re at the top of the pyramid.”

Jihoon says nothing.

 

It was supposed to be a nice and simple wedding. It was private, twenty or so people filling in the white cushioned seats before the elevated pedestal. It was more friends than family because neither of them have had a nice, pleasant conversation with their biological family since they came out -- which was _plenty_ of years ago.

(Jihoon no longer visits his family during the holidays and burns their old-fashioned letters in the fireplace. Minghao learns to get out of the routine of calling his parents every other weekend. In fact, he blocks their numbers after the fourth time.)

After reserving the venue and securing a reliable caterer (Mingyu), budget had become tight. They had no choice but to hire Jihoon’s good friend, Hong Joshua, as the priest of the occasion. Fortunately, the man was more than elated to be the priest of a gay wedding and agreed before the question even left Minghao’s mouth. After that, it was safe to say that the wedding was going to happen without a hitch.

Through much blood, sweat, and tears, the dream eventually becomes reality. It took months of anxiety and frustrated all nighters to plan everything, but here it is.

Minghao _was_ going to walk down the aisle and meet Jihoon at the end with a beaming smile. And if Jihoon didn’t cry at the sight of him, Seokmin _was_ hired to kick him in the shin as many times necessary until he did.

They _were_ going to exchange the god awful vows they wrote at the last minute because they didn’t know they actually had to write them themselves, put on the rings, and kiss to seal the deal.

They _were_ going to have a beautiful reception at a friendly neighborhood club owned by Seungcheol and Jeonghan, eat a nauseating amount of cake, and dance to Stray Kids’ Insomnia under the disco light while Vernon mans the dj station.

Finally, they _were_ going to have a fantastic honeymoon at Osaka, Japan and have the best fucking time of their lives in each other’s presence for a good week.

But here’s how the events actually play out:

The moment Minghao steps up to the pedestal and flashes Jihoon a teary smile, someone screams. It comes from outside of the venue, high-pitched and blood curdling. Everyone turns their heads in confusion in the direction of the sound and watches as the double doors burst open to reveal one of the late-in-arrival aunts stumbling inside. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until people notice the person (...?) clinging to her back and canines digging into the skin of her neck.

What’s happening is confusing, it’s something for them to tilt their heads at. But it becomes devastatingly clear once the person’s head snaps backwards with a chunk of flesh between its teeth. The eyes are blind and the skin is deathly pale, revealing gross purple veins on several patches of its body.  

It grins, predatory.

The aunt, bleeding excessively from the missing portion of her throat, gurgles and falls forward onto the rugged ground.

 _Oh_ , Minghao thinks distantly, head spinning and stomach doing some rad front flips, _oh … is this really happening?_

Jihoon stares at the gory predicament, bewildered.

After a few moments, his face darkens quickly and he bristles.

“You have got to be **fucking** kidding me--”

It goes downhill from there.

 

It takes hours for the venue to be cleared of walkers.

By the end of the trivial task of decapitating the heads of bodies, Jihoon is disheveled from head to toe.

His platinum blonde hair is dirtied to the point that Minghao can’t recognize whether the tufts of brown he finds are the man’s roots or dried blood. He still wears the suit from the wedding, or… at least, the remains of it. The jacket has long been discarded, lost in the masses of gore left to rot on the sidelines. His white button-up is tattered, ripped in some places and stained with blood that doesn’t belong to him in many more.

Amazingly, aside from some miniscule scratches to his full cheeks and smeared dried blood under the chin, his soft yet sharp features remains unbothered. Somewhere along the way, he finds a bat with nails lodged into the other end of the handle. It only makes him look more badass than his fiance already thinks.

In contrast, Minghao appears relatively clean, thanks to Jihoon’s protective defense that he’s fine.

Psychologically and emotionally? Not really.

But physically, sure. All he has is some minor bruising scattered underneath his sleeves from being pushed and shoved by some guests during the beginning of the initial panic.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how Jihoon killed majority of the horde when _he’s_ the one with the fighting advantage. Frankly, he doesn’t like to be protected, which is why he learned how to fight through classes in the first place. It makes him cringe when he thinks about how he did nothing but gape in shock as Jihoon smashed heads in from left and right.

Yet, it still makes his heart speed up a little bit.

“Everyone ran,” Jihoon says, running a hand through his hair, “but the guys will be fine. I think.”

“They will be,” Minghao agrees, “They’re idiots, but they’re strong.”

Jihoon drops his bat and allows it to clatter noisily on the floor. The man leans against the wall and exhales a long sigh.

“So this is fucked.”

Minghao gnaws on his lower lip and nods slowly, “Yeah. I don’t think we made a backup plan in case a zombie apocalypse happens, right?”

“It wasn’t one of our main concerns, no.”

Silence rests between them. Tense and chilling, yet simultaneously tranquil and peaceful. It feels like the doors to their bright futures has shut on them, laughing at them for being too slow to cross the boundary in time. Now in a space of darkness, they’re trapped and forced to find some exit. Though, in this case where death is practically inevitable, neither of them are certain if there is one.

“Hao …”

Minghao lifts his head.

“Let’s get married now,” Jihoon mutters brazenly, “I’ll be fucking damned if either of us die before we get married properly. We planned for half a year for this.”

The younger’s cheeks warm slightly. “Sure, I guess. Don’t make it sound like a job, though. I’ll divorce you right after.”

“Tough luck,” Jihoon snorts, pushing himself off the wall, “There’s no divorce documents now that everyone’s dead. Let’s get it on.”

 

 

The wedding is not like they hoped to be. It’s definitely far from what either of them imagined.

The venue is filled with death and smells like heavy, continuous roadkill. The flowers have been trampled. There is no food because whats prepared has spilled all over the floor. Jihoon reeks of murder and internalized anger while Minghao is clean and resigned. It’s not the most romantic.

Still, they exchange their vows quietly to each other, find the rings underneath the toxic carcasses and slide it on the respective fingers, and kiss sweetly under the fake orchard.

It’s not what Minghao hopes for, but it’s good enough.

Jihoon pulls away from their kiss after a few minutes and sighs softly, “Let’s go kick ass.”

 

 

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens, I love you."

"Uh... Yeah. I sure hope you do."

" _Jihoon_. I'm so close to throwing you out of the car."

"Sorry. Coping mechanism. I love you too, Hao. Now turn on the radio. You stashed some of your CDs in the back, didn't you?"

**Author's Note:**

> contact me
> 
> twitter: @/gayjisungie  
> instagram: @/jaeminwyd


End file.
